


Patrol Night

by SimpleSpider



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Also MJ is ride or die for life, Deadpool is an asshole, F/M, M/M, MJ is tired, Peter Is Clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21512827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimpleSpider/pseuds/SimpleSpider
Summary: All MJ wants is a break. Her job is stressful, her boyfriend's life is stressful, and now there's a mercenary in her living room.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56





	Patrol Night

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a very stupid dream I had, will eventually turn into random one shots of my favorite throuple. 
> 
> Also who is this MJ? I am not sure she's based off of how my bff roleplays her

MJ's brow furrows at Jameson's most recent nonsensical Spider-Rant email. It's mostly about another costume change being spotted and how he was seen carrying a pair of swords. She is off work, this is not her problem.

"Fucking moron." She mutters under her breath fumbling the apartment door open with one hand. There's a dull throb starting between her eyes. Deadpool is just as bad for Peter's reputation as Jameson. It's going to give her an ulcer from the stress. And it doesn't matter how many times Peter assures that Deadpool is a changed man, MJ still thinks he's playing with fire.

"It's fine. It's Friday." She calms herself out loud throwing her keys into the bowl by the couch and kicking the door shut. The apartment is warm and empty. Thank God for patrol night. 

"No boss. No boyfriend." She says happily, letting her hair down. A content sigh bubbles from her chest as she works dull ache from her scalp. "Just me, TV, and wine." The drive to drink steers her to the kitchen. Her one treat for not killing anyone during the week. This week was a test of her patience so she has earned it. 

It's when she's bent over getting the bottle from the fridge that she feels eyes on her. There's a long low wolf whistle. A chill of terror trails down her spine.

"Hot damn, " A deep voice growls appreciatively from the living room, "not the ass I was expecting but that is still one hell of a juicy peach." 

Her knees buckle in fear. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip to stop it trembling. The bottle feels heavy in her hand. Her grip tightens, clutching it close like a bat she straightens to face the intruder. 

It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. A large figure sits in the corner chair. MJ swallows a lump down at the sight of guns strapped to him, shining in contrast to his dark. 

Her imagination runs rampant with fear, Tombstone? The Punisher? Shit! Who figured out where they live. Who figured out who Peter is?

She snarls at him, lifting the bottle up threateningly. "Who the fuck are you." 

"Oh, how rude of me!" The silhouette gasps. He rearranges himself in the seat, crossing one leg over the other and posing before reaching to pull the cord to the lamp.

MJ winces at the flood of light, keeping her eyes open through sheer force of will. Sitting in the corner of her living room is Deadpool. A ball of ice drops to the pit of her stomach. Fuck patrol night.

"That's a look I've seen before! But don't you worry your little head sweetness, I'm not here to hurt you. Well..." Even with the mask MJ can see and feel his eyes drag lecherous across her body, "unless you ask me to. Cause wow aren't you a piece of candy I wanna sink my teeth into." 

Her heart feels ready to beat out of her chest and it's getting harder to control her breathing with the bile in her mouth but it'll be a cold day in hell before she shows him she's afraid. Calm is the only way to take control. She grits her teeth, gripping the bottle tighter ready to swing. "Why are you here?"

"I'm waiting for my dear friend Petey-Pie. I think you might know him." He giggles. Like it's a joke. 

MJ breath catches. Deadpool knows who Peter is. Deadpool is going to hurt him. If she doesn't die this is going to be the worst 'I told you so'.

Red edges her vision. Rage fills her blood, boiling over. There's the distant sound of glass breaking, liquid splashing onto her pants and shoes. Her attention laser focuses on Deadpool. The broken edge of the wine bottle enters her vision as well as she wields it like her own personal Excalibur. No one threatens her Peter.

Deadpool is rocked back in the chair panda eyes wide. Both of his hands are half up his chest, palms forward. The muscles in his shoulders coiled tight.

"I won't let you near him." Her voice is strangely calm for the inferno raging inside. 

"Wait! Uh let's roll it-" he starts to squeak. MJ growls at him, causing him to shrink farther back. 

MJ takes a threatening step closer. "I'll gut you like a fish."

"We're friends! He told me! I promise!" Deadpool squeals in a high voice, confusing MJ enough to fall back half a step. The rug dividing the living room from the rest of the house is all that separates them. He pulls a phone from his pocket and holds it up. Spider-Man giving a peace sign in the background. "I can call him if you want?"

She holds her free hand out, motioning for it. Deadpool stretches his arm as far as he can to keep away from the broken glass. She scowls at him before looking down to survey the phone. It's not password protected and opens to a text chat. The name up top reads "Spider-Babe" with an obnoxious amount of emojis. The contact picture is Deadpool and Spider-man's faces shoved together, Spider-man trying to push the mercenary away. The last text reads: Busy, gotta run by my place before patrol meet you late there

MJ's eyes narrow at the phone number underneath. That's definitely Peter's. And the rest of the texts all seem friendly. She's going to kill him. 

The rage and adrenaline drain from her, leaving her with a sharp stabbing behind her temple. Her shoulders sag with a boneless sigh. From the corner of her eye, she observes how some of the tension in Deadpool relaxes as well.

"I take it that means I passed?" 

"Shut up." She frisbees the phone at him, stalking off to clean up the broken glass and wasted wine. "Peter's not here, so leave."

It feels like she could tear her hair out and cry. All she wanted to do was have a night to relax.

"Awe, so grumpy." Deadpool coos patronizing from the chair. "Want Dr. DP to make you feel better?"

MJ places all of the disdain she feels into her side-eye. "Excuse me?" Screw self-preservation, after the last twenty minutes she's too tired.

"Why don't you come sit on Daddypool lap while we wait, huh? I can make you feel all warm and tingly inside. You can ask Petey when he gets back about why they call me the 'merc with a mouth'." He gives a sleazy laugh, leaning back and patting his thigh for MJ to sit down upon. 

The glass squeaks as her hand tightens.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Peter rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes, too tired to stand. And he hasn't even started patrol yet. Each step towards home stretches on for miles. Maybe he can text someone to take the patrol? 

Absently he notes that someone is getting reamed on his floor, it's too muffled for him to fully pick up on but it does brighten his mood a little with schadenfreude. He's not the only one having a tough day.

Until he gets closer to his door and realizes the yelling is coming from his apartment. Peter pauses at the door, his spider-sense isn't going off, but clearly, something is happening inside. With careful movements, he pushes the door open an inch and peeks in. Nothing could have prepared him for what he sees.

Wade in full costume is cowering on the floor of his living room with MJ standing above jabbing a broken bottle at him like a dangerous pointer.

"I was not created for your pleasure. I am a person, not a fucking sex doll. You disgusting perverted waste of flesh. You do not get to break into my house on my me-night and objectify me. Have you ever even spoken to a woman before? Obviously not if you think this is acceptable." She leaves no room for an answer, moving on to talk about the consequences of people like Wade thinking they can act how they want.

Two big panda eyes fall on Peter. 

"Help me," Wade whispers urgently. 

Peter slowly shakes his head no and starts to pull the door closed. He'll just stay someplace else tonight. 

"Peter Parker, don't you dare think about leaving. This is as much your fault!" MJ spins her glare to him.

"Leaving? Who's leaving?" Peter laughs nervously, pushing the door open all the way. "Not me. Nope, I would never run away from my very intelligent and compassionate girlfriend who I love very very much." 

The click of the door closing is deafening to the two heroes.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Several hours later, after almost literally being thrown out, Peter in costume, sits ramming his head into a brick wall. Next to him, Wade is busy shoving as much food in his mouth as he can to get over the 'traumatic experiences' he endured.

"Why would I ask you to wait at my apartment?" Peter asks out loud again. "That was obviously a typo, Wade. Obviously." 

"Or, " Wade starts with his mouth full, pausing to swallow before he continues, "It could've been you finally asking me to destroy that glorious spider tush."

Peter rams his head into the wall a little harder, rethinking his friend's choices. "No, it couldn't have been."

Wade tosses his empty bag of food behind them, leaning back to stretch out across the ledge. He sets his arms behind his head and kicks on leg over the other.

"How wonderful, I'm so glad you can relax after nearly ruining my life." Peter gushes, words dripping with sarcasm.

Wade acts like he didn't even hear him. "Speaking of fine buttocks, your lady friend has a nice one. Is she a stripper? Cause I gotta pole I'd like her to work."

Peter buries his face in his hands, this is going to be the world's longest night.


End file.
